Love from Paradise

It was my favorite spot to sit at the far corner on a chandelier adjustable stool just under the dim and dusty lamp. The bar was hundreds of conversations told in loud voices, all of them competing with the blues music that dominates the atmosphere. The smoke twisted in its artistic way, forming curls in the gloom, illuminated only by the age-speckled bar lights.

I started looking around and everyone seemed to be pleased and sipping whatever it was on the table. The usual uptown Haitian merchants were there too. I have been to Romeo's pub for decades now, and I can identify every client with a blindfolded eye. Growing up without a family was hard and I was exposed to the outside world and danger when I was at a young age.

But that night, something felt strange and added weirdness to the environment. There comes a huge and tall man about seven feet, wearing a dark blue suit with white linen and highly polished brogue shoes that made him even more charismatic. He's like a person that got beamed in from Mars as a full adult. I don't know a single person who has any idea who his parents were, what his childhood was like, or if he has any siblings. The curve of the rag and bone man's spine was like a drooping flower when his cloth sack was full and worse when it was empty. The only clue to his past was a photograph of a red-haired girl on his desk, she's leaning against a wooden pier, her hair flying back in the wind.

The rowdy bar turned into a quiet place. All the back and forth movement ceased for a couple of good minutes. The loud blues music kept on jamming but everyone was carefree. An awkward silence engulfed the bar. Even though I tried to have Gloria pour me another scotch into my glass, she appeared to be strangely paused.

Gloria has been in the same position for decades now. She is in her late thirties and honestly speaking, she is the reason why Romeo's is the way it is. She considers herself a master of witty banter. Her thick Jamaican accent and her humor keep the bar going. She was the reason marijuana was legalized inside and at the patio as well. As she had connections with the authorities and law-enforcement nobody ever bothered about smoking weed in the bar.

Gloria asked the man about the red-haired girl and he simply smiled, lost in a pleasant memory he wasn't about to share. All he would say is, "Pretty, isn't she?"

He had a faraway smile on his face, after Gloria broke the awkward silence his approach changed instantly. I can see his attitudes changing, and in less than a minute he started chuckling. He had mixed feelings on his face though.

It was a bit harder to get the bar's vibe to where it was before the strange man walked in. Even though the usual uptown merchants were trying to seem unbothered by the unidentified man's appearance, but it was clear enough for me to tell the envy in their eyes. Every client at Romeo's were middle-class men, who do not wear suits on a regular day.

A couple of hours later, as I made to leave and head home I heard "do you have a minute?" from the left side of me. He saw the shock on my face before I could hide it, and then I cleared my voice and said "yes." The man left his stool and got closer to me. As he started getting closer towards me, my whole body got buried by his shadow and before I know it he was a few inches away from me. "Can I help you?" I cleared my throat again and a small smile played on his lips and he said, "Please." The low rumble of his voice was comforting as he sends his huge grip to shake my hand. From the moment he walked in until he opens up a conversation with me, I could tell something was buried deep inside him.

"This is Amélie," he passed me the photo of the red-haired female. I was shocked he did not introduce me to his name first. It left me with total confusion as to how important that woman was to him. I could not tell what he was exactly thinking about. All I could do was, sit down and listen to his story. His voice was deep, whenever he spoke, every head in Romeo's would turn. He had that rich and silky tone.

"I was with the marines in Paris in 1943," he started telling his story. With total surprise, I asked Gloria to pour another scotch into my glass. "Everybody claimed to say Paris was a city of love and as a young man, I was curious to how far it was true. The fact that my dad met my mom in Lille and married her in Paris made my curiosity high. Love is always in the air when you visit Paris. Even during the war. Way back from the day till now, many people from around the world come to celebrate love or alluring emotions." He stopped for a couple of seconds to lit his cigar.

"When we got to Paris, I guess I forgot my role. I never fail to get amazed by the most stunning gothic cathedrals. I remember one night, a night that changed my life forever as the city came out of the darkness of night, we crossed the Seine in silence. The Nazi's were all over the city, and it was a life and death situation. Without the traffic, we walked right down the center of the street and not far away from the Eiffel Tower, like a skeleton of metal projecting up into a sky that was rapidly becoming blue. The city was in total silence that any death scream could be heard from thousands of miles away..." he paused and started to flashback.

"Something weird happened that night that completely changed my life. Out of an outermost silence, I heard someone panting. The streets were silent. Any voice vibration had the ability to turn into an echo and endanger our lives. I thought it was a stray dog for a minute, but then suddenly I heard a baby cooing. My shadow that night appeared to be compatible with the Eiffel tower, and the fact that I was carrying a Thompson submachine gun made my shadow look even scarier. It was me and private Joe roaming around that night in silence and after we got closer to the object that was making a sound, it was this poor young Jewish woman hiding for her life" at this point Gloria was leaning towards the counter curiously and listening.

"It is the type of coldness that reaches into my bones, as if my heart were a door left wide open to the icy wind, slamming only to open again. The only thing to do was keep moving, keep heading towards the base and the steady warmth of the hearth, but something held me that night. I am pretty sure she thought it was her last day alive because the Nazis were pushing towards the East and many Jewish were getting killed like stray dogs. It was a mystery to what she was doing that cold night. And as we got there, my shadow completely covered her and she quickly covered her baby and started crying."

"It didn't take me long to fall in love with Amélie. Maybe that first night. She wasn't beautiful in a classical way, no flowing golden curls or ivory skin; no piercing eyes of green. She was shorter than average and certainly larger than a catwalk model, but in her ordinariness she was stunning," he took a sip from the glass of whiskey and started blowing the smoke. The haze covered my vision for a couple of heartbeats.

Me, as an ordinary man, I never knew much about history. Growing up in the projects of South Chicago and experiencing too much racism and prejudice was my history. This night really changed my life. Even though I was a big fan of world war movies made by Hollywood, I never got a chance to talk to anybody who was actually in the war. And the fact that it happened at Romeo's made me pleased even more.

"I remember by mid-1943 the Germans deporting Jewish residents to nursing homes, orphanages and the majority were leaving the country. The French police were concentrating Jews and held them for days without water and food. But this mysterious Amélie was just hiding in the dark." He paused again.

"Private Joe held her on a gunpoint right away. Adrenaline floods her system, it pumps and beats like it's trying to escape. I thought her heart will explode and her eyes are wide with fear. Her body wants to either run fast for the safety of the hills or to the crate of weaponry, but instead she remain where she was."

"Please..." she cried. Her voice is coarse like a fragmented rock in a hessian sack, moving and grinding against each other. "Please don't kill me" she was hysterical.

"We are not gonna kill you," I sent my hand and held her. "What are you doing here this late, you know you could have ended up dead right?"

"They killed my mom and all my siblings. They raided our home and bombed us. And now I'm trying to escape to Spain" she cried again. Maybe she knew we were not the Nazis. Even though they were all over the city, we had some leaks within them so we would get into the heart of Paris and move out unidentified."

"The sky was dark and low, the air so chilled it hurt to breathe. Already the ground was laid white with frost and any water that had been liquid under the winter sun had become ice. The darkness was thick and the wind was making me shiver even worse. As the year was about to end, the winter winds were pushing me back and forth. Regardless of whatever, Private Joe and I had to save two lives from the notorious Nazi regime, and we took Amélie and her baby boy with us. It's true that God works in a mysterious way and this is not even the crazy part" he paused and before we know it, it was already three in the morning. Surprisingly, Romeo's was the only bar that was opened. I did not want to move from the stool that night. Well, not before I heard an ending to the story.

"President Roosevelt established 'War Refugee Board' in January 1944. It was a U.S. executive agency to aid civilian victims, and Amélie was registered with them. Before she was transferred from our base, I had a chance to talk to Amélie for a whole day. Heavenly knows how I felt connected to her," his eyes glimmered with watery tears and he felt as if the whole world was to crumble. His memories were still vivid. He sobbed and tears flooded like the waters rushing down. He started looking at the picture that was placed on the table, and I suspected it was Amélie.

"I am sorry," he cleared his throat. This time, everything was silent. The music was not playing any more and his voice started making an echo after every word. "Private Joe and I were very happy we saved two lives that night, to find out later that the baby was already dead. I found out about his death after I met Amélie again. She was registering her name with the refugee so she would be transferred somewhere safe, I didn't know where though."

"Wars rage on and soldiers fight and die. We pray for the safety of our lives and our beloved once. Their only photos shattered into a million tear-stained fragments. The only thing that kept me alive during the bloody time was Amélie's photo. The only living souvenir I have had for years. A small token that would remind me of her and what happened so many years before. Private Joe was killed in spring 1944 right before I was hit by the fragments of a bomb on my chest and left for dead." Gloria's jaw dropped instantly. And I was shocked that I started looking around him.

"It was shrapnel I got in the war, somehow the injury never fully healed. It never stopped me though. I remember lying next to the dead bodies for a whole day and night. I was left for dead. I have lost a lot of blood that I started feeling my body shattering. My vision started becoming blurry even after I was conscious. I felt like that was the end of me, the end of Private Richie Coleman. The angel of death was tasked with lighting the way to the dimension the departing soul would be bound to for their next life. This is it. I am dying in a foreign land and my family won't put flowers over my dead body every year" Gloria's eyes were rushing tears like a tap. I wanted to cry but I was trying not to.

"As I said earlier, God works in a mysterious way. At about 11 P.M. another Marine division came back to the place I was left for dead in search of survivors. There were a lot of casualties and I was one of the six that survived. I was kept in the hospital for three months but eventually, I was told that I was going to be sent back to the U.S. because I was diagnosed with diabetes and my wound kept on getting worse with infections."

"On August 1944, I and other hundreds of wounded soldiers and others close to a thousand Jew war refugees overcrowded a troopship escorted by a convoy of warships. I was sailing with the rest of the people and this time, I was feeling a little better. Maybe because I was going home. I had the photograph on my hand day and night, and the people around me never stopped staring at me." He lit another cigar and I can see his vibe changing rapidly.

"On the third day, as I was sitting down at the corner of the ship I felt a weird presence. A shadow just fell right in front of me. And before I could turn my face, I heard a woman's voice. I was skeptical. I felt like I know the voice, it sounded so familiar. I then finally turned my face and I was shocked. My brain stutters for a moment and my eyes took in more light than I expected, every part of me goes on pause while my thoughts catch up. I stood up and placed my hand on the woman's shoulder. That's how I feel now, trying to remember how to breathe, unable to speak, totally stunned as the name bounces around inside my skull."

'Amélie? Is this really you?' "These were my first words before I hugged her for a probably good amount of time. She was beyond words, and she was expressing her feelings with tears. I dropped down to my knees and praised the lord one more time. We acted like we knew each other for years. Some people even thought we were married," he laughed.

"Journey to New York took almost 20 days before we reached Manhattan pier. Amélie was among the 1,000 people whom President Roosevelt had invited to stay at what would be the only refugee center in the United States during World War II. Most were Jews who had lived through concentration camps. They'd lost their homes and loved ones. They were the lucky ones, I would say. When we finally reached New York, I remember they separated us, and the refugees were taken to Oswego, N.Y. and we were taken straight to the hospital for recovery of our minor and major wounds and later on to a rehabilitation center. I made a promise to come and visit Amélie in Oswego." He took a deep breath and walked to the restroom.

I was sitting on the same stool for more than five hours now. I have had so many emotions to be processed. Should I leave the bar or ditch work the next morning? I asked myself, and I told to myself... People like Coleman exist once in a lifetime, but my damn boss will always be there, so I decided to stay even longer.

"My recovery did not take time. But after I was admitted to the rehabilitation center, I was made to stay there for three months. No letters, no telegraphs from Amélie. The fear thoughts looped around in my mind until there was no room for anything else. I was surrounded by fear. I felt like my body could bear any hard times, but the thoughts of losing Amélie was just adding fuel to my burning heart. I loved her, it was unconditional. I felt like she was the only one who can wash away my agony. My troubled and miserable life. There was a reason why I didn't end up dead like the rest of the soldiers. I was a few hours away from death. There was a reason I found Amélie again. Life is a riddle. Everything works in an unexpected way. The definition of life to me is, attaching dots and making it more sensible. Everything is very unexpected in life... After I was discharged from the rehabilitation center I caught a train and headed to Oswego on the same day. It wasn't really hard to find the whereabouts of the refugees at that time, and I met Amélie after months of separation." he smiled. I could see how it came from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. He was living at the moment. His physique was next to me, but his soul was with Amélie.

"Amélie snuggled into my arms and told me I was the only person she knows that gives indefinite hugs. At that moment my arms squeezed tighter and Amélie breathed more slowly, her body melting into mine as every muscle lost its tension to the spring air. This was life, real life. She sunk into the warmth of my side, appreciative of the simple gesture. My touch made the room warmer somehow. In that moment of the kiss, our chemistry became an ever-bright flame."

"I am not a very emotional person, and it takes a lot for me to cry but now...wow" Gloria cried again.

"Six years have passed like six days, and after the war was finally over we decided to fly back to Paris. A new life doesn't open like a present. It requires time and patience but most of all a genuine pure heart. I'd say I have lived every moment of my life with Amélie. Two young survivors. Anyway, Amélie was a U.S. citizen when we finally decided to fly to Paris. This was in summer 1953 when we finally flew to Paris. I was extremely happy we made it to Paris, everything looked different. Everything has come to life. The blossom opens as if each flower was a book, looking like it was waiting to be read and narrate the story. Paris has totally transitioned. For some reason, our heart rhythms with Amélie were not the same. A nightmare in her eyes and mind without ever having to sleep. The vivid memories of her darkest times started haunting her as we stayed in Paris longer. She couldn't bear it. I gave my heart to Amélie, and I made a promise to do whatever it takes to keep her in my life. Gosh! Heavenly know what I did next..." he lit another cigarette.

Coleman was a heavy smoker man. He had a shortage of breath, he gasps a lot. He was breathing, but the air wasn't going in, at least that's what it looked like.

"There is something sweet in the moment of a proposal" he continued. "The hearts are fully open and vulnerable and the eternal bonds get even much stronger. I proposed Amélie in that same summer. Paris is well known for its romantic walks along the Seine river, sidewalk cafe dining, and of course, the Eiffel tower, and trust me we have walked every other street. The other beautiful architecture, lovely hotels, and fine arts also help the city gain a reputation." he stared at me for a couple of seconds and he put his hand on my shoulder and tapped me.

"Are you married?" he asked me.

"No," it was a quick reply.

"Have you been in love?" He asked again.

"Well, nothing that went a long way like yours. But I guess I was" he cut me off and started laughing and I started looking at Gloria. Confused.

"Well young man, love can be painful sometimes but its sweetness outnumbers the bitterness." he smiled and continued telling his story. "After I proposed to Amélie, we didn't stay too long in Paris and we flew back to New York. New life has started, but an everlasting love was created by then. We have had the most perfect marriage, everything was in order. As I was getting close to my thirties, I wanted to make us a big family. Love hears and speaks with the wisdom of the heart, with a sense of the soul of the other. In love, we have our forever home and it gives us the ability to fly so freely, joyfully returning when each heart calls for the other's touch. Regardless of our differences, we drew our gaps closer." there were faraway thoughts running in his mind.

"America wasn't the same anymore. After the war, my thoughts were things to get better, not to face another war. Segregation started getting worse, anti-black people revolutions were taking place. This has greatly affected me mentally, but I have been through hell so it didn't faze me. I could bear any odd against me, but one thing I would never allow to happen was to see Amélie racially attacked. Even though there was too much hate around us, people mocking us with racial slurs and many anti-semitism threats, but our love never stopped growing. I guess a negro male with a Jew female was considered to be the most bizarre thing." he smirked.

"Race war was at its highest peak. It reached a point where I started getting scared to go to work, and I made the biggest decision of my life. And it was leaving America for good. I felt humiliated, disrespected and most of all, I realized the years I spent in the military were in vain. Every step I took was away from home, and I was getting farther away. I was a very sensitive and emotional person before life taught me how to be bold enough in this world. We finally flew to Quebec in Fall 1956. Life was good there. Less hardship and we had much governmental support. French is a second language there, so it was really easy for Amélie to start a new job and blend with the new society. Things started getting sorted out in order. Again, I thought of making us a big family, and finally, Amélie got pregnant with our only son. Anything done for pure and positive motivation will fill you with happiness and begin healing, painful though that process can be. It's like waking from a nightmare to find you are really covered in bruises and cut by knives." he was hysterical. He started crying like a baby.

"Are you okay Mr. Coleman?" I put my hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, but crying washes away my internal sin and regrets."

I was clueless about what he was about to say that night. I was confused and started looking down.

"When Amélie had our first baby boy, she was diagnosed with breast cancer." he started crying and I was shattered. Emotional pain flowed out of his every pore. He grabbed onto a chair so that his violent shaking would not cause him to fall.

"I was broken into pieces. The world got darker to me in broad daylight. My heart stopped and I could feel my body collapsing. The doctors told me they would do everything in their power to help her, but I felt like it was a lie. The love of my life passed away after exactly two months of her diagnosis." It was as if every sound that escaped from his mouth was set to the frequency that would shatter his heart to pieces again and again and again.

"Jesus," Gloria cried. I paused asking questions because I was trying to hold back the strange feelings rumbling inside me, but I could not. A lone tear rolled down my cheek, and just like that, I was flooded with tears.

"What about the baby?" Gloria asked again.

"I thought that was it for me. I was suicidal after her passing. Life was just worthless, and I made the greatest mistake of my life. I gave up my son to the orphanages but I was trying everything I could to just make sure he was alive. Since he was a little boy, I heard he was adopted quickly by a white family and was taken to Chicago." he stopped.

"Chicago!" I screamed. I started looking at him even harder. I did not know what to reply to this man at that point. I then started processing his words whenever he said "The definition of life to me is, attaching dots and making it more sensible."

"I finally resided in Chicago in 1962. My boy was already six years old. I don't have the right to call him my boy, I know, but we make huge mistakes in life and those mistakes haunt the hell outta us! I became a minister at a Baptist church in Chicago, and every Sunday morning I used to watch over my little boy with his new family from the far corner" he started crying again.

"Baptist church! Which part of the city?" I asked him because my curiosity was high.

"New faith baptist church, South Chicago" he stopped. I could feel my heartbeat. Every single pound in my chest. I started sweating and at the same time, my hands started shaking. Because I remember going to that same church before I became homeless, but I don't remember this man.

"I grew up in that church, but I don't recall you," I said.

"I know you did..." he sighed. A heavy silence settled over us three, thicker than the uneasy tension in the atmosphere. Gloria was on his face this time and I was standing this time.

"Take a seat," he pushed the chandelier adjustable stool towards me.

"You are the reason I was serving at that church" he paused.

The world turned into a blur, and so did all the sounds. The taste. The smell. Everything was just gone. So many tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down my face. My chin trembled as if I was a small child. I breathed heavier than I ever had before. I was gasping for air that simply wasn't there. My throat burned to form a silent scream. Is this what crying felt like? A part of me dying inside yet, relief... I just couldn't believe what I heard.

"What are you trying to tell this young man right now?" Gloria pointed her finger towards me.

"Listen to me son...", "SON!" I screamed out so loud that my scream made an echo at the bar. "I don't know you... MAN," I was hysterical.

"I know you don't, and I have no more words left to say to tell you to convince you that you are my son. I'm your biological father, or however, you want to understand it. My life is a total mess that I don't deserve to have you seated on the same stool for hours. I'm a ghost, but I never stopped my existence. I wasn't there for you during your childhood and adult times, but I wasn't there for myself too." he stopped and I was already leaning on the table trying to hide my tear. I couldn't take it anymore and I stood up to leave, but he held me by my arm and made me sit.

"I know you never imagined this moment, but I want you to know that Amélie, your mom loved you so much and this wasn't the way it was supposed to end. And for all the time, I really am sorry. I know this is not enough to say, but I made my mind up to finally talk to my son after 32 years. And here we are. You don't need me, I know. And I know you won't accept me as your father, and that's okay. But, God works in a mysterious way and he heard my prayers finally. My biggest fear was dying before seeing this moment. I am sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed a father, I am sorry I was not there for you when you were homeless, but I was a drug addict and a convicted felon. I am so sorry for this life..." He stood up and left a piece of paper that had his address and the photograph of Amélie on the table and walked away.

The year 1988 has left the greatest impact on my life. The process of accepting my father as my dad took me longer than I thought.

Amélie, the Jewish lady who's been through hell with my father was really my mother. My biological mother. The lady that stole my father's heart. The lady who sends her love from paradise was my mother. I understand why my father did what he did, and I have moved on. I tried to put myself in his shoes and tried to see the world in a different dimension. The guilt of failure to be a father was his greatest burden, and I have moved on. Accepting the fact that my father was a vet in world war 2 was my every morning mystery. My mind went all over the place to process and accept the fact, but I finally did.

Life is a mystery and has its own way. I have missed my greatest childhood years when I was with my adoptive parents. I started realizing they were not my parents after society started looking at me differently from my 'siblings'. That was the reason I went awol which caused me to miss out on my childhood years and time and spent with my adoptive parents.

In this world, before we judge anyone let's get to know them. Who they are, where are they coming from and so. Each person has an untold story buried inside them. To fill the world with love and passion, let's be merciful, have forgiveness, be the warmth in the cold. And in this way of being, your mind will be free, your soul light, and your heart strong.

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